Absolute: Team Four
by runaway ballista
Summary: CGH; Snapshots of Team Four, Hayate's team from his genin days.
1. Acceptance and Refusal

This short fic has been in the works for almost a year on a start-and-stop basis. It grew out of a desire to write a series of snapshots about Team Dana, Hayate's team from his genin days in my own personal fanon -- both to develop Hayate's pre-tokujou backstory a bit more and to flesh out the character of Dana, as I've come to be quite fond of writing her. I've _finally_ finished the first in the series, so I hope you enjoy it :) Hayate belongs to Kishimoto, but Dana, Tarou, and Ikumi are of my own creation.

**Absolute: Team Four  
_Acceptance and Refusal_**

From the moment Gekkou Hayate was born, the Gekkou clan had high hopes for him. There was just something about the infant boy as he rested in his mother's arms that spoke of promise. Even when he caught scarlet fever at the age of two, he prevailed over the illness as they would have expected from such a promising child -- or so they thought.

He began his formal training in the family kenjutsu as soon as he was old enough to lift a small practice sword. He was barely four years old, but as soon as his little fingers touched that sword, his father got a fleeting glimpse of the child's full potential -- something great and formidable, something that, if properly nurtured, could far exceed his own mastery of the katana. Gekkou Hayate was going to be an incredible swordsman.

Hayate was enrolled in the Academy at the age of five, and even by then there were whispers of his unofficial title as clan prodigy. He was expected to graduate by the age of ten. Fate, it seemed, had different plans in mind for him.

His parents thought it a little odd and a little worrisome that he fell under the weather at least twice as often as his peers -- that his colds and bouts of flu lasted longer than they should have; that the child, even so young, grew to look perpetually tired. It was even more alarming when, at the age of six, their usually complacent son began to constantly complain of pain in his wrists and knees, or when he had to stop in the middle of a training session with his father because of a spontaneous coughing fit. By the time he was six and a half, his parents were significantly concerned. It didn't seem like a phase that would simply pass. The boy who had only just begun to earn the official title of clan prodigy was looking like he might already lose it.

They took him to the doctors. They didn't know what was wrong with him, and it was difficult to say. Series after series of tests were conducted, results carefully examined, reassessed, jumbled about like bone dice in a cup. But no matter how they were rolled, the numbers read the same.

There wasn't even really a specific _name_ for what was wrong with him. There was the respiratory problem, but his parents had suspected that for some time. All the doctors could tell them was that there was something wrong with his immune system, with his whole body -- it was as if something was eating at him from the inside out, very, very slowly. It wasn't something terminal, but he wasn't healthy. He was just _sick_. The disease accounted for the fatigue, for the constant illness, for the pains all over. Even at just under seven years old, Hayate seemed to understand what the doctor was telling his parents. His pale little feet swung idly from the examination table.

The doctor was silent for a short while, letting the news sink in -- then he spoke again. Treatments would start immediately, of course, but there was no cure. There were things they could do to ease the pain and symptoms, but the disease would always be there -- it was simply a part of the boy's life. It wouldn't be an easy one -- even with all of the treatments they could offer, he would no doubt still be frequently sick. To continue with his shinobi training, the doctor said, was unadvisable. It was possible, perhaps, but it would be harder on the boy than most. He recommended a civilian life -- something simple, something easy.

Hayate's parents disagreed vehemently. Even now, through the waxing illness, the potential Hayate held was unmistakable -- the sole heir of the Gekkou clan, abandon the path of the ninja, when he'd only just begun to turn that potential into something real, something tangible? It was unthinkable. Even little Hayate, sitting quietly on the examination table, agreed with his parents.

"But I _want _to be a ninja," he said, with surprising conviction. The next day, Hayate returned to the Academy.

It was, as the doctor had promised, difficult. Despite his best efforts to combat the frequent bouts of illness with all manner of treatments and bed rest, Hayate was missing a considerable amount of class -- enough that his teacher finally decided that he could no longer keep up with his classmates. Hayate was set back one year in his studies, and it no longer looked like he would graduate by ten.

He continued to miss school, but managed to keep up with the peers he'd been placed amongst -- it was a small glimmer of hope for the Gekkou clan, as if confirming that the second chance for his potential to be fulfilled would not be wasted. Despite the obstacles thrown in his path throughout his schooling -- constant illness, the permanent admittance of his mother into the psychiatric ward, the vicious attack on the village by the nine-tailed beast -- by the time he was twelve years old, he had not only graduated, but graduated with his original classmates.

"Team Four," their homeroom teacher announced on the day of their graduation -- every student sat in almost uncomfortably dire anticipation, glancing around the classroom anxiously at their classmates to see whom they'd end up with. "Iwasahi Miho, Ashiya Tarou, and Gekkou Hayate."

It didn't matter, just then, that his two teammates were almost strangers to him from the years of separation in another class, or that they paid more attention to each other than anything else, or that there came a hushed but chorused sigh of relief from the remaining children in the class -- relief that the sick kid wasn't on their team. It didn't matter, because Gekkou Hayate had finally become a ninja.


	2. Feudal Guardian

This took forever to turn out. Sorry for the wait, please enjoy!

**Absolute: Team Four  
_Feudal Guardian  
_**

Hayate was the only one who remembered the full name of the sensei that had been assigned to his team – he had a feeling that neither Ikumi nor Tarou had been paying much attention. They seemed to have more important things on their minds, but Hayate couldn't imagine what could be more important than _this_.

They received a summons from their new sensei, not to the classroom, but to the monument by the training fields. The three of them assembled that morning by the imposing stone structure, none of them looking at the hundreds of names carved into its face. It was seven o'clock in the morning, and Ikumi and Tarou seemed groggy and reluctant to be anywhere but their own beds at that point. Tarou slumped exaggeratedly to the ground, clutching his bow in one hand; Ikumi dropped her knees next to him, yawning. Her assortment of rings glittered in the early morning sun as she raised one hand to cover her mouth. Hayate was the only one left standing, his katana strapped proudly to his back. His father had presented it to him upon his graduation, and Hayate had spent much of the previous night diligently cleaning it, polishing its chrome finish to a brilliantly reflective silver.

She turned up seemingly out of nowhere. Ikumi and Tarou started violently at her sudden presence, leaping clumsily to their feet, and Hayate's sword clanked in its sheath as he turned to see.

The jounin before them made a terrifically imposing figure, and it occurred briefly to Hayate that she must have truly been a skilled ninja to be so stealthy at her size. She was of a towering height, at least six feet, probably more. She was also built a good deal more solidly than most women, with a well-defined musculature that showed in her broad shoulders and firmly sculpted arms. Her face was all weathered features and hard lines, her eyes stern and forbidding. A thin white scar ran upwards from the jut of her jaw to the corner of her left eye. Hayate thought she was the very picture of a battle-hardened elite ninja of the Hidden Leaf.

When she spoke, her voice was deep and broad, her tone curiously indifferent. "Good morning, all. I'll take it on compelling evidence that you're Team Four." None of them were really sure what to say to that, but luckily, it didn't seem that they were expected to say anything. The impressively tall woman sat down cross-legged on the grass before the monument, her long ponytail swinging. Placing her hands squarely on her knees, she nodded at the three genin. "Have a seat," she said. "No need to keep standing all this time."

Ikumi and Tarou looked relieved that their sensei seemed to be so relaxed, and sat down in front of her; Hayate followed suit. Hayate, though, didn't think so – despite her words, she seemed to have a militarily strict air about her that Ikumi and Tarou simply failed to perceive. All the same, he didn't think bad of it – so far, he thought he liked their sensei.

"I'm Kaifune Dana," she introduced herself at last, "and I've been assigned as your sensei. We'll be together for a long time, so you'd better get used to me." Her otherwise flat mouth quirked a corner up in a faint wry smile, and Ikumi and Tarou let out an uncertain laugh. The woman, despite her attempts at humor, was powerfully intimidating. "So! Tell me your names, eh?"

Ikumi, as always, was the first to speak up. "Iwasashi Ikumi!" she announced, with a bit more pride than Hayate thought anyone should put into saying their own name. It seemed a bit frivolous – kind of like Ikumi herself.

Tarou leaned back on one wrist, bow in his lap. With that air of practiced arrogance – a little _too_ practiced – he examined the fingernails on his other hand, as if they took up all of his attention. Hayate couldn't imagine fingernails being that interesting. "Tarou, of the Ashiya clan," he said, and somehow managed to make the drawl sound boastful.

It was hard to tell what Dana thought of any of them. Her face remained neutral throughout the entire thing, and the only detectable change in her expression was the slight twitch of her eyebrows as she listened – more of a gesture to speak than a reflection of her reactions. Hayate found this sort of admirable.

She turned her head slightly, then, to look at him – it was his turn. Hayate had never much liked talking in front of others, though this _was_ his team and he probably ought to get used to this much, at least. With a quiet cough, he shifted his weight forward slightly; his sword rustled in its sheath, strapped across his back. His hitai-ate was tied around his neck, and the plate grazed against his chin. "Gekkou Hayate," was all he said, and sat back again.

Before Dana had a chance to say anything, Tarou interrupted with a slight groan. "Come on! That's so uncool. You have to make it sound _cool_ – like I did. Introduce yourself like – like, Hayate of the Gekkou clan! With pride!"

Hayate returned the suggestion with a blank stare. "It's not really a clan," he said, somewhat bemused.

"Then – _fine_, Hayate of the Gekkou _family_. You know, spice it up a little."

"It's just a name," Hayate said, feeling a bit put upon.

"Names are _important_."

The discussion – argument – debate – whatever it was – was ended with a sharp clap from their sensei. Dana tilted her chin at the students, her hair rustling as she did so. Hayate squinted against the sharp glint of sunlight that bounced off the metal plate of her hitai-ate. "Names aren't enough, here. Tell me some things about yourselves. As your sensei, it's important I know you at least a little, hm?"

Ikumi sat forward, rocking slightly. "Like what?"

"It's up to you. Hobbies, likes, dislikes, goals – anything you think I should know, as your sensei." Dana closed one eye and peered calmly at them through the other. To Hayate, she looked like a massive stone Buddha – calm and unmoving, a living monolith carved out of flesh and blood.

Ikumi seemed to be rather intimidated by her stare, and merely sat there with her mouth hanging slightly ajar, unable to conjure up any verbal response to the prompt. Dana watched her for several long moments, before she finally moved – she leaned forward and flicked Ikumi in the forehead with one large finger.

"If you sit there with your mouth open like a frog," she said, in the most neutral of tones, "a fly will buzz into your mouth."

Ikumi recoiled visibly, clapping a hand to her forehead in some sort of mild dignified horror. Dana settled back into her previous position, looking vaguely expectant.

Covering Ikumi's falter, Tarou jumped in. "I have a goal," he announced, a bit more self-importantly than was strictly necessary. "Someday, I'm gonna be the leader of my clan. It'll be pretty awesome." Hayate noticed the way Tarou's fingers absent-mindedly played over his bow as he talked. He obviously really loved his bow – that Hayate could identify with. But there was something distinctively different about the nature of it that Hayate couldn't quite identify.

Dana merely nodded, with no comment. Hayate wondered if she actually cared about their answers, or if it was just her apparent stoicism that prevented the three of them from knowing her impressions.

Taking this as a sign of encouragement, Tarou continued on. He wasn't usually all that talkative, from what Hayate had seen, but he mostly understood this to be because he was friends with Ikumi, and Ikumi seemed to have a problem closing her mouth, some days.

"I practice with my older brother and my dad on the weekends. We even have our own field out there with our own targets," Tarou went on, and Hayate privately felt unimpressed – he practiced _every_ day, with or without his father. "My favorite food is curry rice, but I really hate eel –"

"That's because you're weird," Ikumi cut in, with the usual river-like babble returning to her speech. It seemed that Tarou's quick save had banished the intimidating spell Dana had cast upon her with her stone-like stare. "I _love_ eel. Tea and dango are also really tasty, and so is mint ice cream…but you know what's really awful? Cabbage rolls. My mom makes them all the time but they're so _gross_." Ikumi made an exaggerated face. Hayate felt himself starting to tune her out – listening to Ikumi talk about food seemed particularly irrelevant. Not to mention he hadn't been able to eat breakfast that morning, and she was making him hungry. He picked idly at the grass by his feet.

"…I guess I don't really have a big dream or anything like Tarou's, and I don't want to be the Hokage or anything like that…I guess I'd like to learn how to make some really cool rings, and I'd like to get married to a really strong ninja someday…"

Hayate thought he felt his eyes crossing by the time Ikumi finally stopped talking, and it was only because Dana interrupted her, but with less of the intimidation factor, this time. "Hayate's been awfully quiet this whole time," she noted, and Hayate's head shot up, his darkly lined eyes blank and slightly wide. "Why don't you say a little something, too?"

There seemed to be some unsolicited kindness in her words that lurked just beneath the cool granite surface. For a brief moment, Hayate sat there dumbly, mouth hanging slightly agape as his fingers picked at the grass.

"I like udon and tea. Things that go down easy and don't make me sick. I don't like being sick or things that are too sweet." He paused only to cough quietly and rubbed a broken piece of grass between his fingers. "I don't really have a big dream either…I just want to be a good ninja." He sniffled – a pause. "I want to show others that I can be a good ninja even if I'm sick."

There was a beat, and Dana nodded, as if in approval – at least, that was what Hayate felt it was. "Aren't you going to tell us about yourself, too, sensei?" Ikumi piped up, her hair bobbing slightly. Hayate thought he saw a flicker of mild surprise on Dana's face at the interest, but she settled back, her shoulders relaxed, and tipped her chin up slightly.

"I like lots of fish, especially catfish. I don't like things that are too sweet, either, or things that are too dry." Dana looked stoically thoughtful, as if she were speaking of things she didn't normally think about. "My favorite hobby is fishing. I suppose that's all there is to say."

There was a slightly awkward silence following; none of the three genin could think of much to say. Undoubtedly the other two children, like Hayate, found it just a bit peculiar that her favorite hobby was _fishing_ – it seemed ill-suited to the hard-featured monolith of a woman who sat before them.

"Do you all know why I asked you to meet me here?" The question was asked apropos of nothing. There was a moment of uncomfortably confused silence in which the three genin tried to decipher her meaning.

"For the…team…meeting?" Tarou tried, weakly. Dana neither laughed nor frowned; she simply got to her feet, thumping her fist against the solid stone monument behind her.

"You all know what this is, don't you?" she asked mildly. The three of them nodded, almost uncertainly, as if afraid of another trick question, and said nothing. Dana stared at them expectantly for a long moment.

"Well, then? What is it?"

After a short bout of less than discreet elbowing, Ikumi spoke up. "It's the memorial," she piped up "Every shinobi who's died for the village has their name on it."

Dana nodded in approving affirmation. "It's more than that. This –" She rested her hand on the monument, this time a good deal more respectfully. "_This_ is a symbol for everything we live for as shinobi of the Leaf."

The hushed silence that hung over the genin now was one of respect and slight awe as they listened to their sensei. Dana was no longer looking at them as she spoke.

"It is important for you all to understand, from your very first day, exactly what it means to be a ninja. This monument – all of these names – this is what it really means to be a ninja. Every single person carved into this stone lived and died as servants of this village, as do I, and as will you. Being a ninja isn't about getting stronger, or being the best, or even about killing the enemy. It's about protecting this village. I hope that none of you ever forget this. If I can teach you nothing else as your sensei, I would be happy knowing I would have at least taught you this."

There was a brief period of silence – even with talkative Ikumi – as the weight of Dana's words settled into them. Hayate glanced over at his teammates – for the first time that day, they looked like they were finally taking this seriously. He felt inwardly relieved. It always seemed like Ikumi and Tarou treated their training and schooling more like an obligation than a serious duty. Turning his gaze back to his lap, Hayate reached back around to touch the edge of his sheath. He smiled a little to himself – a small smile that he didn't think anyone else would notice – but when he looked back up, Dana had already met his eyes, smiling back at him as if in benediction.

"Well," she said with another abrupt clap, and looked over at Ikumi and Tarou, "it's still pretty early in the morning, don't you think? Why don't I treat you all to some breakfast, and then we'll see about some training."

Ikumi and Tarou chattered excitedly at that suggestion – evidently, they hadn't eaten breakfast either – and the three newly graduated genin got to their feet and let their sensei lead the way back to town for a good, hearty meal. Hayate let himself hang back just a moment, though, casting a glance at the intimidating monument with all of those names carved onto it. All of that dedication – all of that honor – he wondered if his name would ever be inscribed into the stone, one day.


End file.
